Night Terrors

Drifting into the deep
words float in puddles
spinning round and round
then, drip one by one
through fluttering eyelids.

Something’s going on
(I scream)
but, no-one hears the cries.

Drowning now in you as you
haunt me with those eyes in the
darkness of my dreams.

Running now

always running

(Sometimes wish I had a gun)

Trying to escape before you
make a grab for me.

Yes, you know it’s you
who haunts me.
Taunts me
(as you used to sneak into
my room)
Now, you creep into my thoughts
when I let slip my guard
falling victim to your nightly
frights again.

Heart is in my throat now
and I’m choking on the fear as
those shadow-hands reach out from
the cold and dead
to touch my living flesh.

If this is a dream then wake me
for, I am in hell and the devil is
escaping through my tears.

I’ve lived with you for years.

Suddenly, you disappear
but, I know where you are.
I saw someone toss you back into
the earth, scattered the ashes
of your demon birth.

So,
go back and walk among the
living dead because I am
so much stronger than you
ever knew.

My light outshone your
wicked deeds.
I’m alive and, when I wake
I’ll remember that it was
I who heaved a silent sigh as I
watched you go.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo      *All rights reserved

For far too many reasons that I can’t go into without writing a novel, suffice to say, I used to have these dreadful recurring night frights for years, where I would wake up shouting, sobbing real tears and, even though once awake, I couldn’t break free of the fear from those dreadful night terrors.  Until through deep soul searching of many ‘whys’ and of being able to forgive the unforgivable,  I found my own light and then I knew, through love, I’d always been so much stronger than I ever knew I was.

No child should ever suffer any type of abuse at the hands of any adult, parents or not. Not in any way and, not for any reason.

Shared with dVersePoets

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Fallen Angels

Fallen from grace
she is the defiant one.

She will not hide her face
in shame as she sheds those
precious wings
Softly lets them fall along
with silken garb
everything, discarded.

She is lost to them…for now.

She takes an Earthly stand
but, lifts a hand to the Heavens
begging for respite.

Resisting eternal glory
neath their golden skies of fury
they leave her upon a
pedestal way up high.

She seeks solace of the flesh.
remembers body to bodily
sharing once again.

Exploration of forbidden fruits
in those mountains, valleys and seas
of human pleasure.

One night of passion.

One night of mortal love.

One night in arms that share
their warmth and suffocate in
sensual embrace, with hearts that
beat so slow, then race to love’s
sweet culmination with kisses so
deep, they’d keep the devil’s
fires burning.

But, they will not abandon her
(she is their Heavenly child)
She will learn her lessons
and when she’s finished falling
they will hear her calling

For…

like all good parents, they love
this wayward child.

Her wings will be there…waiting
cared for by Heavenly love
and one day her parents know
she will ask if she can
come home again …just
like all the other

Fallen Angels Do.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

Over the years I’ve written poems putting my own interpretations to this picture a few times. It’s such an expressive piece of artwork,  sensual body and lots of scope for different directions of thought without ever being crude and, I wonder if things like fallen angels could happen, after all according to the Bible, God threw Satan out of Heaven and, he was an Angel…right?

Shared with With Real Toads #Bodies

Jaguar Cars

An ad on TV showed the newest car.

“You know who makes them do you?”

“No, who?”

“Jaguar is originally a posh car made in the UK.”

“It’s not JagUar, it’s JagWar.”

“No, it’s pronounced JagUar, not JagWar. Jagwar is the American way of pronouncing it.”

“No, no, no, it’s JagWar.”

So, we  Googled it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jaguar Cars  It states  Jag-ew-ar EW together makes U  known simply as Jaguar (play /ˈæɡjuː.ər/ jag-ew-ər),   Da daaaaa

My-soon-to-be-16 teen once asked me what a Bar rock was… I had to ask a few times what she was saying so that it was clear. Yep it was a Bar rock. I had no idea what she was asking me. It was a word I’d never heard before. So, I asked her to tell me what context it was used in.

“It’s was what soldiers live in”

“Ohhhhh.. you mean a Barrack!”…

We do have some giggles over our different accents and what are ‘new’ words to her.

Shared with G=Man’s Friday Flash 55

Poem Sketching

Google Image by Holly Vampasaurous

Fleeting

a shadow of wings
blurred at the edges
and gone in a flash
yet the shortness of flight
cannot convey its depth.

Maybe a spirit
lost
trying to find its way
(as are we all)

Water music plays
its liquid serenade
expanding the circles
in my mind
drawing me in, whilst
a distant drummer, beats
beckoning me to horizons
I have yet to dream and
shores I’ve yet to see.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

Shared with With Real Toads Poem Sketching.  I used the words: Fleeting, Shadow, Music, Shores… to write this.
Poets United Think Tank #90 Music

The Eye of Heaven

Through the route of ages
in breath and equilibrium
the journey is always
the same
we are born to die.

Each remnant of the
ancient Gods leaves more to
question, than answers.

I jostle days
turning pages in wonder at
new knowledge
they impart.

Religion separates
divides and conquers
yet,
fire and ice can co-exist
if we did but surrender ego
to learn the higher plan.

With hint of fragrant promise
the softness of pillows await and
in sweet dreams and starlight
the moon sings her lullaby
to the earth
(her dearest one)
Meanwhile
the eye of Heaven watches
waiting for us all
to come home again
to love.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

Shared with Three Word Wednesday #CCLXV Fragrant, Jostle, Remnant
Poetry Jam #Strange Gods
Poets United Pantry #94

Battered Wives

Google Images

For years
and years
(far too many)

She was a punching bag
and yet she gave
…and gave.

Sometimes she’d fall
run
I’d try to catch her
in the spin and
pick up the pieces
left.

This was not what
she had planned
and yet
…it was.

She was living
but
…had yet to live

Now my message is as clear
as I can make it
and as gentle.

“Open your heart
don’t close it to love.

Don’t say:
‘I can’t’ because
you can
and,
the best is yet to be
you just have to believe
in you
as I believe in you.
Your life is no longer
tightly bound around
another’s bidding
Life demands that you
come back again
Back into its living
so,
close your eyes,
clear your heart
let it go.”

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

For my youngest sister and other battered women everywhere.
She had to go to court last week, saw her soon-to-be ex husband, crying.  Told me it was cancelled for some reason but, it was hard to see him keep sobbing. I told her they are ‘pity me’ crocodile tears and that if she went back with him now he’d treat her even worse because she’s had the nerve to take the divorce this far. She’s feeling so lost, nervous, fragile and, she has no self confidence at all. She has panic attacks and I’ve told her she has to re-learn to live her life again but for herself now and, it takes time to adjust to thinking for herself once more after 30 years of his bullying, spousal abuse and conditioning.
Told her to try to change her thinking and stop keep saying ‘she can’t do so and so by herself’ and to start trying to tell herself ‘yes, she can do.’ I could cry for her lack of confidence in herself.
I’m praying so hard she keeps her fragile nerve now and doesn’t take those all too easy steps backwards. The next time he could end up killing her.
I love my family and sometimes wish so much I could hug (especially) her because I know how much she misses her big-sister-Bren hugs.
Thank goodness we can talk now through her having access to a computer now.

Shared with Carry on Tuesday #150 The best is yet to be
OpenLinkNight #37

The Stones

I once knew a Blackrock
a place that holds many memories
for the child who
(then)
was me.

Now, I hold a black rock
in my hand.
Jet black and smooth
…just because
Because the feel of its
stone-cold-to-growing
warmth, soothes.

Thoughts drift above
the watermark
and:
Ah, here it comes again.

‘Hello, welcome rain
oh, how I have missed the
magic of your warm, wet kiss
to lips that have thirsted for you
through the months of snow.’

The rock in my hand
leads  to others
all shapes, sizes and each so
vibrant in colour.

I feel their energy flow
and gain pleasure
as my thoughts wander again at will
a gentle trickle with the rain
So aware there is new life now
about to grow
but,
the rarest of all flowers
is still safe inside my heart.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

I have a small pot of stones just like those in the picture.
Sometimes I sit and hold one for a while, just to feel it’s smoothness, texture, think about its flaws and, appreciate its magic.

Shared with With Real Toads OpenLink Monday
Poets United Pantry #94